


Lost Sincerity

by kibasniper



Series: Femslash February 2019 [23]
Category: Higurashi no Naku Koro ni | Higurashi When They Cry
Genre: Cruelty, During Canon, F/F, Femslash February 2019, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: The marketplace is filled with cruel villagers. Each one of them seeks Rika's approval only to cast their glares at Satoko the second she looks away. As they request her blessing and curse Satoko in the same breath, Rika will not stand for it.





	Lost Sincerity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019's twenty-eighth prompt "Princess."

When she steps into the village square, all eyes turn to her. Their pupils constrict as they follow her every moment. Adoration shimmers in their held gazes. Any glance she spares towards them is treasured and seen as a gift from Oyashiro-sama.

Rika dances with contempt as she strolls into the marketplace. The vendors greet her with eagerly waving hands and flashy smiles filled with too many teeth. They offer specials on salmon, rice, and soy sauce only to trail off when they notice her shadow is overlapped with another.

Satoko holds her hand as they walk. They swing their arms, and their shadows become one under the setting sun. They carry straw baskets and giggle, loudly wondering how to make Keiichi trip in class. Satoko suggests using chalk to scatter around his seat to make him slip, and Rika bobs her head in the agreement.

Rika shields her eyes from the setting sun and allows her enemies to shoot a glare at her dearest, their grins settling into scowls. The orange and red hues streak across the sky as sunlight splits through cracks in the clouds. With the sun blocking out their cruel expressions, they are left as shadowy husks surrounding the girls.

They pass old women and housewives, fishermen and councilmen, all of them giving them the expected looks. A smile and wave to Rika and a scoff and clenched fist for Satoko, it all stews within Rika like a kettle ready to scream out with steam. She isn’t blind. Each subtle glance she offers subdues their hatred, fueling the putrid disgust swelling up in Rika’s heart as she guides Satoko around a gossiping duo who refuse to move a little to the right for her to step past.

“Ah, Rika-chan!” someone calls, and she cocks her head, taking in the coming form of three middle-aged women.

Rika gives her practiced smile. “Yamamoto-san, good evening.”

Satoko edges closer to her and laces their fingers together, a gesture that goes pointedly noticed by the women. She shifts her attention to her spotted sneakers as Yamamoto narrows her eyes at their hands.

“What are you buying?” the second woman, Nakamura, pipes up. She fixes her straw hat and tilts her head, a gesture Rika understands as feigned concern.

“Satoko and I are going to make a nice rice dinner tonight. We’re inviting our friend Rena over, mii.”

“Don’t forget Mion-san! It’ll be a girls-only sleepover,” Satoko adds, and Rika chuckles, reminded of the fun games Mion will bring to their home.

“Oh, Ryugu-san. I’m glad she’s returned to the villager,” the last woman, Saito, remarks, peering at her compatriots.

“Yes, yes. She’s such a lovely girl,” Nakamura replies.

“Will anyone else be going?” Yamamoto wonders, hunching forward and staring squarely into Rika’s eyes.

Satoko shivers even though there is no breeze. She bows her head and fidgets with her basket.

Older women are brazen with their cruelty. They will throw their weight around and openly pretend not to acknowledge Satoko. Rika knows younger women would help if she dropped her yen but only if Rika goes to assist first. Even with Rika present, they’ll scorn Satoko under the beating rays of the sun with the vendors smirking all the while.

Sighing, Rika asks, “Yamamoto-san, did you want something? We haven’t bought our food yet, and we’d like to get going.”

Yamamoto blinks and straightens, her huffy response clearly unexpected. She coughs into her palm, her friends avoiding the awkwardness pinching the humid air.

“We’re really in a hurry. Can you please ask what you wanted or did a cat catch your tongue, meow?” Rika chuckles in her honeyed voice that would make even the hardest heart melt.

“Oh, oh, oh, right. You see, my son, Touma, he’s been having some back pain. It’s been hurting him because he has to stay home from work, and it’ll be a burden on his family.” She slips her hand into her skirt pocket and reveals a yarn omamori dyed in blue and purple hues. “If you could please bless this, then I can give it to him. I’m certain he’ll feel much better with your blessing.”

Rika pinches it when she pulls it out of her fingers. It’s expected for her to grant luck and happiness with her blessings. Some villagers will go out of their way to have Rika sing her praises and well wishes in order for them to get what they want.

They’ll brazenly ignore Satoko right in front of her just to get what they expect from her, the devoted priestess, the beloved princess.

As her anger grows, she squeezes Satoko’s hand and notices her friend wince. She had forgotten she was holding her hand. An apology is ready to leap past her lips when the women seize the moment to snarl at her, and her own mistake slaps Rika in the face.

“Hojo, you can learn patience! Can’t you see we’re busy?” Nakamura snaps, jabbing her finger at Satoko’s nose.

“Bow your head until this is all over. Honestly, she’s just like her wretched parents,” Saito says, turning her nose to the clouds.

Yamamoto utters a disgusted sigh. “She’s such a burden to Rika-chan, and just when I-”

Rika flicks the omamori at their feet, silencing them before they can whip up a whirlwind of hatred towards Satoko. With a careless stomp, she grinds it into the dirt and watches the particles kick up around her bare ankles. Gasps surround her, and even the vendors utter their shock as if punched. Satoko loosens her grip, but Rika remains firm.

Yamamoto bends forward, tempted to pick up her omamori. She quivers, stupefied by the fire burning in Rika’s eyes. Her friends shudder as well, their voices stripped from them.

She’s certain she’s seen this situation once before. It had come to her in a dream of a broken life where they had bullied Satoko so severely she panicked in front of everyone. More villagers came to sneer down at her, their hearts fueled with unreleased anger towards her parents. Even with Rika attempting to break up the exploding rage, their contempt for her parents’ decision to betray Hinamizawa raged on and made unending tears stream down Satoko’s face as she blubbered hollow apologies.

She’s sick of it. Satoko had done nothing to deserve such pain, and she had already suffered tremendously with her own sins. These old women, with their gaping mouths and the veins glowing red in their eyes, had already given Satoko cruelty in another world according to her dreams.

Then, in her opinion, it’s only right for her to dish out what they deserve.

Shaking her head, she says, “Oyashiro-sama will be displeased because you’re all hurting a fellow villager of Hinamizawa.” She pulls Satoko closer and slips her arm around her shoulder, a weightless smirk playing on her lips. She senses Satoko’s wide-eyed gaze following her every moment. “Do you really want to be so callous in front of the one who represents the great Oyashiro-sama?”

Saito waves her hand, the wooden bangles on her wrists dangling. “R-Rika-chan! We, er, we were-”

“We thought she hurt you,” Nakamura interjects, clasping her hands together with a trembling smile.

Yamamoto straightens. She purses her lips and watches Rika grind her heel on the omamori.

“Is that so? You must be getting blind in your old age.” Rika giggles. “Nipah!”

“R-Rika, it’s okay,” Satoko whispers in a voice only she can hear.

She glances over to her friend and finds her hesitant smile filled with sadness. Brushing her long locks of blue hair over her shoulder, she peers over at the ogling vendors and raises her voice. “Are you sure? Oyashiro-sama was certainly angry by the way the merchants around us treated you yesterday. Ignoring you really made him upset.”

The vendors yelp, their voices high-pitched. A rather smug smirk to stretches into Rika’s cheek. Lifting her foot, she allows Yamamoto to snatch the dirtied omamori. She flicks her gaze back to the vendors, finding them looking away with their hands clasped in prayer.

She can hear Hanyuu whispering her apologies already, and it sickens her to the very bone.

“Satoko, let’s go,” she says, gently tugging her around the women.

“Rika-chan, does Oyashiro-sama really believe that?” Yamamoto demands, throwing one arm out as if the girls simply couldn’t duck underneath it.

Blinking, Rika peers right into the haggard woman’s pinpointed gaze. She chuckles, the response rather boring. She already knows what Hanyuu would say. As her messenger, it’s her duty to say will of the god who weeps for the languid souls of the village.

“Don’t disrespect me,” she snarls, slapping the offending arm out of her way, “when I know exactly what it is that Oyashiro-sama hates about people like you. Abandoning one of their own is what makes Oyashiro-sama furious.”

“Even if Sonozaki-sama-?”

“Especially if that old hag says otherwise.”

She leaves it at that. She hears Satoko hobble behind her as she storms out of the village square, their plans for dinner forgotten. Heat bubbles in her chest and scorches her heart. She hadn’t realized her anger would leave a pit of exhaustion sweltering in her chest. She glares at the dirt and stones that she kicks up with each step, the wary gossip of the villagers fueling her wrath as she hurries away.

She knows this is a dead end world. Rumors have seeped into the village that Teppei has returned, and Satoko will return to him. It’s an unchangeable fate, and she can’t even take true pleasure in hitting back against the ones who turned their backs on Satoko.

“Rika,” Satoko says, her voice firm and calm.

She stiffens, realizing she had dragged Satoko to the outskirts of the marketplace. She glances at the distant shrine looming within the heavy branches of the trees. Swallowing, she pivots on her heels and grins.

“I’m sorry. I forgot to buy our groceries.”

Satoko’s brow furrows. “Does-does Oyashiro-sama really believe that or were you just saying it to make me happy?”

“He does.”

“Really?” Satoko brightens with a heavenly glimmer that Rika knows will only go out soon enough.

She smiles, tired of the treatment her dearest beloved must endure from all of the adults who plague Hinamizawa. “Mii! It’s the truth.”

She hates that it couldn’t be the same truth for the villagers, who spite Satoko all for the sake of appeasing a god who cries out for the bullied child. She runs her thumb across Satoko’s knuckles, suggesting they make do with the ingredients they have at home. With Satoko smiling at her side, Rika wishes they could simply walk home forever with nothing to fear in the coming future.


End file.
